Cathrine's Tears: Revisited
by rainjewel
Summary: I wrote this so long ago I barely remember what it was about. It's 3xC...yeah, you heard right. It's basically a fluffy story, but hey! There's not a lot of these types of fics running around out there. Come see!


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Cathrine's Tears: Revisited

By: rainjewel

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Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is property of Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asahi.

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A/N: This is my first attempt at a Gundam Wing fic. Scary, ne? All I have to say is that I haven't even seen _half_ of the GW series (ah, I am the innocent unspoiled moron), so this might not (a.k.a. probably won't) correspond with any character-relationship-developing between Cathrine and Trowa. As in, if it is revealed that they actually are blood relatives (in some dark and unseen future where good has been triumphed by evil bunnies with popsicles) then this fic doesn't sit well with that at all. Other than that, I have nothing to say except Long Live Romantic Fluff! Say it with me now! Long Live Romantic Fluff! Long Live Roma—*is bashed over the head by annoyed readers*

"Trowa? Trowa is that you?" Cathrine's voice rings out across the animal compound.

__

No Cathrine, it's not me. It's the other boy with the clown face that talks to lions.

I wonder what she thinks of me. I know she called me pathetic earlier this horrid night, but she shed tears for me as well. Tears for an unnamed boy; tears that stopped that self-same boy from taking his life.

"Ah, I found you. So this is where you've been hiding," Cathrine says. She kneels down on the outside of the cage. I say nothing and still stare dead ahead, focusing on the rise and fall of the lion's breathing beneath my head. He doesn't have a name either.

"You'd better get out of there, Trowa. He won't be pleased if he wakes up to find you were using him for a pillow," Cathrine says quietly.

__

Actually, he was the one who offered.

I don't understand why she cares so much. All I've done since I've arrived is cause her and the entire troupe grief. And today I almost got her killed.

There's a squeaking sound as Cathrine opens the cage. _No._

"I wouldn't do that," I say. "You've never been in here before. He won't recognize you."

"You said animals trust their emotions. Hopefully his will be positive towards me," Cathrine argues. She steps through the threshold and walks towards me. I see she's trembling.

Cold or fear? You decide.

Carefully Cathrine sits down beside me. I notice she's in her pajamas. I wonder if she woke up worrying about me. That confuses me. She reaches out and lifts the clown mask from my face.

My weakness has just been exposed.

"You're not a clown, Trowa," she says softly. With a flick of her wrist she tosses the mask to the far end of the cage. Gently she slips an arm under my elbow. I remain motionless.

"Come with me," she whispers,

"I'd like to spend the night here," I say.

"You can't, you'll freeze! Look, you already have goose bumps," Cathrine replies. It's true.

"Cathrine, please leave me alone," I plead. I'm so ashamed with my failure that I could die. The last thing I want is a pity party.

"Trowa, it's 1:00 in the morning. I'm not leaving you here. Now come on, get moving," Cathrine says stubbornly, tugging on my arm. I see there's no point in arguing. It's my last night here anyway…I might as well say goodbye.

Quietly I rise, slipping out of her grasp. Cathrine scrambles to her slippered feet, following me out of the lion's cage. We walk in silence to the trailers. Cathrine latches onto my arm again, as if I might disappear if she were to let go. Ha, ha—I just might.

"Come to my trailer; I'll make us some tea that'll put you right to sleep," Cathrine says. As usual, she tries to remedy the world with some culinary concoction. 

I almost disregard her and continue to my own trailer, but then I remember that the other Gundam pilot is in there. I certainly don't want to see him right now. Not like this. He would have gone through with the plan no matter what. _That_ boy would not allow himself to be swayed by the tears of a blue-eyed girl.

With more than a little reluctance, I follow Cathrine to her trailer. The minute the door closes, she begins digging around in her cupboards for teabags, lemon, honey, and hopefully some Valium. I lean against her small counter with my eyes closed and arms folded. The silence between us is probably awkward for Cathrine, but it's welcome to me.

Soon Cathrine sets the kettle on the stove and bids me to come sit with her on the couch. I comply, seeing no reason to displease her. I think I've already done enough of that tonight.

"Why'd you do it, Trowa? Why did you attack that Oz base?" Cathrine asks the minute I'm seated, tilting her face so that she can see into my eyes. 

__

So much for friendly chitchat.

"Cathrine, if I told you, I'd have to kill you," I reply dramatically. Actually, I should have killed her the instant I got out of Heavyarms. She knows who I am and she has _seen_ my Gundam. These complications alone should merit her death.

I have bathed in the blood of hundreds of soldiers. Could I bathe in hers as well?

Cathrine gasps quietly at my answer and draws her knees to her chest. "That's a good enough explanation, I suppose."

Suddenly the kettle begins to whistle shrilly, saving me from more disarmament. Cathrine quickly jumps to her feet to silence it. As she pours the water into two mugs, she begins humming softly. It amazes me that this kind girl can think she can solve every problem with either some tea or soup. 

__

Here Kaizer, I'll get you some chicken noodle soup and then you'll set the Jews free, right?

"You'll make a great mother someday," I tell her on a whim. Granted, I have never known my parents, but I would think my mother would be similar to Cathrine. 

"Thanks," Cathrine says. She hands me a cup and I obligingly take a sip. The tea is sweet and heavy, but it's so hot that it burns the skin off the roof of my mouth. Stroking the top of my mouth with my tongue, I look back to Cathrine, who turns away from me. Her body shakes inside her blue silken pajamas.

"What's wrong?" I ask, standing up. Women are such a confusing lot. _Tea then tears._

Cathrine turns, her face damp with those silver tears. "You're leaving in the morning, aren't you?"

"Yes," I reply bluntly, honestly. Cathrine rushes forward and hugs me fiercely. As she embraces me, I feel her teacup rattle and the hot liquid spills and burns my back. I say nothing and carefully put down my own cup. Awkwardly I put my arms around her as she sobs.

I've never been hugged before. It's a rather nice feeling, save for the scalding sensation of the spilt tea against my skin. I'll deal with that later.

"Why? Why are you crying for me?" I whisper into Cathrine's red-brown hair. 

"You really don't think that anyone cares about you, do you Trowa?" Cathrine asks, squeezing me tightly.

"_Mmph_?" I reply, more out of pain then confusion. No one cares for anyone else in the army. "Don't Get Attached" is the Number One unspoken rule.

Cathrine pulls away, the moment lost, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. She looks at her empty teacup with bewilderment and reaches out to touch the back of my shirt.

"Ouch! Oh Trowa, I'm sorry," Cathrine says, her demeanor switching abruptly. "How can you stand that? Here, take off that shirt before it burns you."

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It's a little too late for that.

With a grimace I pull off my drenched turtleneck. Gingerly I touch my back, feeling the heat radiating off the burnt skin.

__

So this is what a roast beef sandwich feels like.

"Let me see," Cathrine says, spinning me around. She places a hand to my sore and flesh and pain shoots through my back. "Oh goodness! We need to get some ointment on that _right_ away!"

"I don't need—" I begin to protest.

"Lie down," Cathrine interrupts. "Over there, move quickly." She motions to the back of the trailer where a bed with a navy blue comforter lies. With a defeated sigh I walk towards it and obediently lie down on my stomach. There isn't any point to harming my body simply because I feel sorry for myself.

As Cathrine rummages around in her bathroom, I close my tired eyes. The comforter is soft as a kitten and the pillow feels deliciously fluffy. It smells of Cathrine's scent: jasmine and freesia. I know that I shouldn't drift off to sleep, but I can barely help myself. It has been a very long day.

"This might sting," Cathrine says, her voice slurred and foreign to my sleepy mind. Suddenly an icy cold sensation sweeps over my body and I breathe in sharply. 

And as simple as that, I feel refreshed.

"Was that stuff in the freezer?" I ask. Cathrine continues rubbing whatever concoction she found into my back. Goose bumps appear on my chest and shoulders with each touch. That stuff is _freezing._

"No. This is some gel we used on Barney when he was learning how to swallow torches. He burned himself a lot back then," she explains. Gradually I get used to the feeling of Cathrine's cold hands upon my back and I begin to relax once again. How long does it take to rub this balm in?

"Thank you," I say absently as the silence between us begins to build. _Thank you for ruining my mission, thank you for knocking—_punching_—some sense into me, and thank you for saving my life._

"You know," Cathrine whispers after awhile, "You can stay here for the night."

"That's not necessary, Cathrine. I don't need a keeper," I reply.

"It's almost 2:30 a.m. You can stay here for the night," Cathrine repeats. I catch her hint and nod against the smooth pillow. I feel the need to make her every wish and whim come true as a way to absolve my previous actions. 

But of course, I too have my limits. I _will_ leave.

As the minutes pass by, and Cathrine shows no signs of stopping her ministrations, I begin to doze off, even though I know shouldn't. I suppose I could pull an all-nighter if I had too, God knows I've done it before.

My thoughts drift. That boy in my trailer said he was told that there was nothing wrong with following his emotions. Was it his emotions led him to try and kill himself, just as mine did? I thought it was more of a graveyard benefit from being a Gundam pilot. All of us know that there is always the chance of having to resort to self-detonation, whether or not you're ready for it.

I wonder what my emotions are telling me now. What do I want?

"Trowa?"

A disembodied voice snaps me out of my daze. As I break to the surface of complete consciousness, I find that I am lying on my side. I also realize that someone is sneaking onto the bed with me. 

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Bed? Never mind.

I almost _feel_ the adrenaline being released into my bloodstream. Obviously the few survivors from the Oz base have found me. Turning over quickly, I grab my revolver from my ankle, and pin the intruder down. With a click I release the lock on the gun, and place the barrel to the person's forehead.

"What do you want?" I ask in deadly seriousness.

"Trowa?" Cathrine whispers. Her trembling hands reach up and grab the end of the revolver and timidly move it to the side of her face.

"Cathrine!" I exclaim surprisedly, jerking the gun away from her face and placing it back in its holster. "You scared me."

"Is that it?" she whispers. Her breathing is shallow and frightened. With a guilty face I jump off the bed, releasing her. Of course it was Cathrine on the bed…no Oz soldier would know my name

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Two slip-ups in one night. Must be my birthday. And this is the time to leave the party.

"I apologize," I state, fighting to keep my voice from sounding so broken, "Now you know why I must leave here. I can only cause you pain." 

I turn to make my exit, my heart heavy. I didn't want to have to leave like this. So this is my emotion: regret.

"Trowa stop!" Cathrine calls out. I hear the bed squeak as she stands up.

__

Ignore it. That kid would eliminate all the obstacles. I will merely sidestep them.

"Goodbye, Cathrine," I say in a final tone. At least I can still harden my voice.

"Trowa, I won't beg you to stay," Cathrine stage whispers, "But I wish you would."

My hand freezes as I reach for the door. _What are your emotions telling you now, boy?_

"Please, Trowa," Cathrine pleads. Her voice is breathy.

And once again tonight, my emotions do the thinking for me.

I drop my hand and look over my shoulder with soft eyes. "I won't be here when you wake up," I tell her.

"I understand," Cathrine says, her relief evident in her reply. With weak knees she sits down on her bed. I walk slowly back to her bedside, damning myself. I stop and stand in front of her, not knowing what to do. She extends a hand and tugs gently on my wrist, motioning for me to sit down. I comply and sit beside her, placing my hands just above my knees.

"Where will you go?" Cathrine asks after a bit.

"You know I can't tell you that," I reply.

"You can't tell me anything, can you," she says. It's not a question.

I shake my head in response anyway. Cathrine rotates on the bed so that she is sitting cross-legged to the side of me. She reaches out and wraps her arms around me, leaning her head on my shoulder. Interesting.

"I'm going to miss you," Cathrine whispers in my ear. Her hand runs across the small scar along my temple. "I'm so sorry I hit you with that knife."

"Just think of it as leaving your mark," I reply, halfheartedly trying at humor. I have a feeling I failed. I have never been a funny person.

"Ha, ha," Cathrine replies. I feel her eyelashes flutter against my bare shoulder as she closes her eyes. I know that she'll be asleep in minutes. I might be able to stay awake for days on end, but I doubt she can.

"Cathrine," I whisper. Tentatively I reach up and stroke a few of Cathrine's sunset-colored curls. I can't go wrong if I trust my emotions, can I? "I'm going to miss you too."

"I know, Trowa. I've always known," Cathrine replies, her voice sleepy. A little surprised, I look towards Cathrine, who raises her head to meet mine. Her eyes are glazed.

"You have?" I say, my voice barely a whisper. _My emotions—what are they telling me now?_

I believe Cathrine, as well as I, know the answer to that question.

"Yes," Cathrine says. She leans in closer and gently, almost chastely, kisses me on the mouth. Surprising myself, I completely give myself into the kiss, not shying away. For the first time in what has been a long, cold era, I feel nothing but a peaceful rapture. Beauty is revealed to me.

However, the moment lasts only a bittersweet second and we break apart. Cathrine looks deeply into my eyes and I into hers, searching for something I can't name. I move to kiss her again, wanting to take another taste of serenity, but Cathrine stops me by placing a hand to the side of my face.

"If I kiss you again, I won't be able to stand it when you leave," she whispers, her eyes changing from glazed to wet.

"I understand," I reply, desperately wishing that I didn't. For once I decide to take the initiative and pull her in close to me, hugging her fiercely. I feel a tear fall down my cheek, but I make no move to wipe it away and instead say, "To bed with you, then. You'll never be able to wake up to say goodbye if you don't get any sleep." 

I hide a kiss in her hair. I wonder if she'll find it.

"Promise me you won't leave until I get to say goodbye," Cathrine says, stubbornly holding onto me. 

"I promise I won't," I tell her. Carefully, yet firmly, I pull away and stand up. Cathrine looks up at me with warm blue eyes. 

"Be careful," she says, clasping her hands in her lap.

"I always am," I reply. I turn and begin walking away, knowing that if I don't leave soon I never will. Good-byes can be said in the morning. 

At the door, I surprise myself by not being able to turn the doorknob. Something needs to be said. Unable to turn around and face Cathrine again, I say it with my back to her.

"I'll come back. It might take a lifetime, but I'll come back," I tell the door.

"I know," says Cathrine. I close my eyes, pained.

"Sleep tight, Cathrine," I say, then quietly turn the doorknob and exit into the night, a changed world awaiting me.

As I walk briskly back to my trailer I wonder about my last few words. Will I, as a Gundam pilot, be able to keep my promise?

__

Of course.

I will return. My heart won't let me leave for good.


End file.
